


A Virgin Who Can't Drive

by AlocYrrehc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco learns to drive, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlocYrrehc/pseuds/AlocYrrehc
Summary: Draco finally gets the nerve to ask Hermione out, kind of.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94
Collections: Happy Birthday Ana and Renee!





	A Virgin Who Can't Drive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megamegaturtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamegaturtle/gifts).



“Is she expecting you?” Hermione’s assistant gave Draco a look to rival that of any Gorgan, and Draco grimaced, having answered this question several times this week.

“No, but I’ll wait. Please let her know that I am here.”

“Certainly, Mr. Malfoy,” she responded, though her tone left no doubt that she wouldn’t make it easy for him. He took a seat in the hallway and waited, as he had done for the previous four days. If he were being honest with himself, he had no idea why he’d come to the ministry on this fool’s errand, but maybe he really was a fool to think that Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, would take pity on the former Death Eater. He’d waited outside her office all week, but the Brightest Witch of Her Age worked long hours, and never seemed to come out from her office. She was still working at nine pm each night when he’d been asked, in not so pleasant tones, to please vacate the premise as the ministry was closing for the evening.

It was a little past noon when the door to her office opened and Hermione Granger stepped out, pulling her coat on as she walked, spouting instructions to her assistant. Malfoy stood in time to watch her walk right past him, turning back to look at him just before she rounded the corner.

“Malfoy? What are you doing here?” she asked, apparently surprised to see him.

“I was hoping to have a sit down with you. Your assistant said you’ve been booked, so I thought I’d wait to catch you sometime.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Er, no?” If Hermione’s assistant could level a stare on par with Medusa’s, she must have learned it from Hermione, because Draco was sure he’d turn to stone if she continued to scrutinize him as she was doing. “Since six o’clock this morning.”

Hermione strode back to her assistant, Malfoy catching only the words ‘unacceptable,’ and ‘never again.’ He turned to leave but managed only a few steps before he felt an arm twine through his. “It’ll have to be quick, Malfoy. I have a meeting in a half hour that cannot be rescheduled but if you don’t mind walking, talking and eating at the same time, we can chat.”

He realized he’d stopped moving when he felt her tug on his arm, and he fell into step with her, surprised at how quickly she moved. Even with his long stride, he had to keep a brisk pace to keep up with her. “So,” she said, a little breathless as they headed to the stairs rather than the elevators. “What brings you to see me?”

It had been ten years since Draco had last had occasion to go up this many stairs, and he was surprised to find himself winded. Apparently quidditch used an entirely different set of muscles, because after the fifth flight he was feeling quite the burn in his glutes. “Um, I wanted to know if you were serious about what you said last weekend.”

Hermione, who was taking the steps two at a time in heels without breaking a sweat, gave him a questioning look. “What thing? When?”

“At the… Muggle studies… class… You said you’d… teach me to… drive,” managed through deep, gasping breaths.

They’d reached the top of the stairs, and Hermione hopped off the top step, performing some sort of pirouette that should not have been possible after climbing twenty flights of stairs. Draco wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like.

“I’d love to. I’ll pick you up on Saturday at 7 am.”

Draco stared, incredulous, not sure if he was more surprised at her quick agreement or the ungodly hour she wanted to meet him. “Um, great. Fine. Do you have a car?”

She looked at her watch and started. “Oh, dingbats. I’m going to be late. See you at seven!” and she ran back down the stairs, muttering “Do I have a car.”

**

Draco returned to the manor and changed into an old quidditch practice kit, transfiguring his cleats into flat bottomed shoes so as not to incur his mother’s wrath, and started taking the stairs two at a time from the dungeons to the top of the Manor tower. After his first round, he was soaked in sweat, and by the third round, he was fairly certain his legs were actually on fire.

_How on Earth had Hermione run up those twenty flights without breaking a sweat?_

He collapsed in the hall on the second floor, sweating profusely and breathing so hard he didn’t hear the tell-tale clack of his mother’s boots until they were right next to his ear. “Draco, whatever are you doing sweating a stain into my favorite rug?”

“You hate this rug, mother. I’m giving you an excuse to get rid of it. You’ll have to roll me up in it and bury me with it. I’m afraid I’m going to expire right here.”

She nudged him unapologetically with her boot, and he reluctantly stood, his heart and lungs still unable to keep up with the demands his body was making.

“Were you attempting to exercise, Draco dear?” she asked, a raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Um, yes?”

“Mmm.” Without warning, she cast a disillusionment charm on him, and beckoned him to follow her. “What I am about to show you, you must never mention to your father, do you understand?”

Draco nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him through the disillusionment. “Yes, mother.” A familiar feeling of dread tugged at him as he watched his mother disable the wards protecting her private wing, and Draco wondered what dark magic he would find behind these doors. The last of the wards fell away, and a blast of cold air hit him as she opened the door.

“Mother…” Draco was speechless as he looked around. “What is all this?”

A lesser woman would roll her eyes, or perhaps scoff, but Narcissa did no such thing. “It’s called a home gym, Draco.”

“Why the wards?”

“Your father believes I come by this figure naturally, and I intend to keep it that way. This-” she had moved next to a large machine Draco felt certain was used as a form of torture, “-is called a Stairmaster. And that one is an elliptical machine. Feel free to use them any time, although they won’t give you the results you’re looking for before your date with Ms. Granger on Saturday.” She waved away his objection, replying, “if you don’t want to be overheard, don’t use the floo in your study, dear. I’ve told you how many times? The sound carries.”

**

Hermione pulled up to Malfoy manor at exactly seven am Saturday morning. It was unseasonably warm for December, but clear, and she had the top down on the sleek black convertible. Draco could tell it was old and expensive, as none of the cars he’d ever seen on his trips into Muggle London looked anything like it.

“Come here often?” she said by way of greeting, laughing as if to a private joke.

“Um, I live here.” She laughed harder, opening the door for Draco.

“Get in,” she said, handing him a thick, misshapen hat, scarf and mittens. “I made these for you.”

He bundled up and they drove off, heading west at terrifying speeds. They arrived in Portishead in record time, and Hermione led Draco to a small strip of beach, unpacking a blanket, thermos of coffee and basket of pastry.

“I thought you were teaching me to drive, Granger.”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “Wait, you were serious about learning to drive?”

“Well, yes.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“What did you think?”

“I thought you just needed an excuse to ask me out.”

“Well, yes.”

“Good. I’m going to kiss you now, is that ok?”

“Well, yes.” She leaned toward him, and he pulled back for a moment. “Wait, before we do, I must know, Granger. How did you make it up all those stairs without breaking a sweat?”

She laughed, a sound he was quickly falling in love with. “I use a weightless charm when I wear heels. I could probably jump all twenty flights if I tried.”

He groaned as he thought of the hours he’d spent on his mother’s Stairmaster yesterday. “Cheeky -” before he could finish the statement, Hermione’s lips were on his, and all was forgotten as he melted into the witch of his dreams.


End file.
